Tales of Promise
by Virtuella
Summary: The end of the war has opened up new prospects for many. A counterpart to The Unsung Sorrow. 2008 MEFA 2nd place in combination with The Unsung Sorrow
1. Lossarnach

Middle Earth belongs to J.R.R.Tolkien

I

They are sleeping now. Flickering firelight reflects on the strands of sandy hair that fall over her arm. She lies on her side, the newborn curled up against her chest. How silently they breathe. I cannot sleep. Not now. I have to look at them. I have to watch them till I know for certain that I am home and they are safe.

For many years I was a blacksmith as my father had been before me. I wielded the hammer and forged tools and weapons alike. With my body strong and my mind firm, there was little that I feared. Now I know the greatest of all terrors. Those burning homesteads on the Pelennor Fields...

There was a brisk wind from the sea the day I wedded her. Her hair was moving in the breeze as she walked over the doorstep of my house. I was holding my breath, hoping it wasn't a dream. Ever since that day, this house has been filled with a delight beyond my words.

I was a soldier for a few gruesome weeks. In sparse armour I rode out with the others to defend the heart of our realm. All too quickly did I get used to the trade of death. Orcs we slew and other foul creatures, but men, too, men from the East and the South. Strange they were and fearsome, but men nonetheless. This helmet I picked up on the battlefield must have once belonged to an Easterling. I wonder now why I wanted to take anything home with me other than my life.

Worse than the fighting was the fear on the way home. The first thrill of victory was nothing compared to the joy I felt when I saw my house unscathed and the chimney smoking. But nothing, nothing can match the bliss of seeing her sitting by the hearth, with our child in her arms. With my hands so large and rough, I was worried I would not muster the tenderness due to one so fragile and small. But the child melted into my arms as if there was no fitter place in all of Gondor.

As I sit by the fire watching them sleep, the grim images fade from my mind. The dread that had possessed our lands has passed. We shall be a proud people as we were of old and walk with good cheer under open skies. With our city and our king and the bounty of our lands, Gondor shall prosper.

I shall be a father now. I shall teach my child the virtue of hope. I shall be a blacksmith again and forge the tools of peace.


	2. Minas Tirith

I will remember this day all my life. No matter how old, how tired I might grow, never will I forget the glory of this day.

This morning I woke up crying. I was shaken by the shame and the guilt of failing to make my heart rejoice in my sister's wedding day. We had shared the same anguish. Why would I resent it that hers had been relieved?

I had done whatever I could for my sister. I had gone back and forth through the whole city. With so many fallen, a great number of things were sold cheaply, or simply passed from hand to hand. Men's gear was easier to find, of course, but I came across some useful things; shoes, ribbons, a velvet cap. For a poor family like ours, this was good fortune indeed.

Poor we might be, and yet richly blessed: Our father, our mother and our two brothers walked with my sister today. There are few houses in the city, where a wedding would have been fitting so soon. Our Lord Faramir, he cannot wed yet, for he has to mourn his father and brother. I should have been grateful. My mother gave me no reproach, she tried to comfort me. There are still men returning, she said.

I helped my sister trim her gown and wash her hair. I brushed and braided her shiny tresses. How well I hid my tears I know not. So many nights we had both been lying awake, whispering to each other about our fears. I had done what I could for my sister, but she knew. Why did I fail her so?

At noon we walked along the street towards the house of her bridegroom. I was behind her, so she did not see my face. My eyes were cast down, watching my feet stepping on the cobbles. Even when I heard riders approaching, I did not look up.

But I noticed that the sound of hooves on stone suddenly stopped, and then I heard a voice calling my name and the world stood still. When I raised my eyes, I saw him standing before me, dirty, haggard, with his armour battered and his clothes torn. A more beautiful sight I have never seen.

In an instant, my sister flung her arms around me, and there was no more reason to hide the tears, neither hers, nor mine. He waited, patiently, until our sobs had ceased, and then he took my hand. We walked on, my hair flying in the breeze.

It was a modest feast with sparse dainties and humble wine, and one unexpected guest, who wore no wedding clothes. It was a merriment so gay, a celebration so rich, it would have been fit for the king himself and his elven queen. Back home, alone now in this chamber, my feet are still dancing. As I untangle the ribbons from my hair, I know I am blessed beyond all measure. Here in the White City of Gondor, at the heart of our realm, a new Age of hope and joy has begun. My wedding day will come.


	3. Ithilien

_NB: My portrayal of the agriculture in Ithilien is largely guess work. If anybody has concrete information, I would be pleased to hear from them._

_Thanks to Wendy for her advice on a few doubts I had about this chapter._

* * *

III

How peaceful this place is. I come out here most evenings to look at my country. The river moves in lazy curves through the plain under the setting sun. Beyond it the mountains carve their crisp outlines into the evening sky. Our city is a white speck in the distance. Behind me the rising slopes are crowded with pine, fir and larch. The only sound is the trickling of water. Stretching out in front of me is my new homeland. It is a place of rough pastures and groves of olive trees for the most part, dotted with groups of small wooden houses. Timber is abundant here and the men set to work with their axes almost as soon as we arrived. My cabin is a poor affair compared to my little house in the fifth circle, but I shall make it homely by and by.

It is the same mossy bolder I sit on each time I come here. Here on the edge between the tame and the wild. It used to be the edge between the light and the shadow. Long had that shadow darkened not just our skies, but our hearts. The pride of our people dwindled, as our world shrank to the confines of our city walls. With the shadow gone, all places are ours again. This land will thrive as it did of old.

Even I may thrive again. Long before this war began, my life had gone stale. The world can seem so dead and dreary in a city of stone, when you have no kin. Here the air is filled with the scents and sounds of life. I close my eyes and inhale the sweet smell of thyme and sage, listen to the birdsong. Often I walk with bare feet so I can feel the living land under my soles.

Not many womenfolk came out here with Lord Faramir's people in the beginning. But very soon the White Lady of Rohan will arrive to marry our Lord Faramir, and then cheer and joy will ring through the hills and woods. Do not blame me for loving these two better than I love our king and his elven queen. I tended to them both for a while, when they were in the Houses of Healing. A lingering tenderness stays with me always for those I have cared for.

So many broken bodies. The Perian recovered swiftly, after the new king had seen to him. But that young lad, one of those riders, how he was crying, when they brought him in. And lucky for him it was, that they brought him quickly; he would have died the way he was bleeding. Lovely lad he was, shame about his leg, poor lamb. He almost cried again, when we parted and he said he had nothing to give me in the way of thanks. All he wanted was to get back home to his mother. And he did. How surprised I was to receive a gift that was brought all the way from Rohan, a headscarf that keeps me cosy on these nippy evenings. Little white flowers his mother has embroidered on the cloth. He will never ride again, but his heart might heal.

There has been neither sickness nor injury in the months since we have come here. My days are busy with building, planting, gathering herbs. The younger women come to me for advice. What wisdom I have, I offer to them. We work together day after day, chatting and laughing. No fields have been tilled yet, but gardens have been made and are green now with the young growth. The olive trees are laden. There will be a harvest in Ithilien this summer.

The world will heal.

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_If you think this is too rosy, try the counterpart "The Unsung Sorrow"_


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